


The Not-So-Murderous Assassin

by ironmittens



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (semi seriously), Bucky Barnes & Winter Soldier are Different Personalities, Caregiver Steve Rogers, Crack Treated Seriously, Diapers, Fluff, Gen, Littles Are Known, Mild emotional hurt/comfort, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pacifiers, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Avengers, The rest of the team are baselines/caregivers, Tony Stark Has A Heart, alternate universe - classifications, alternate universe - littles are known, hints of angst, little Tony Stark, little verse, winter sees tony and goes 'i wanna coddle' that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28287279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironmittens/pseuds/ironmittens
Summary: “But why would he come out specifically when Tony is little?” Nat challenges, “he could’ve gotten Tony alone while Bucky was in the lab with them. He’s smart. He wouldn’t come out unnecessarily — he knew Tony wasn’t alone on the helicarrier.”There’s a lengthy pause. Tony throws his hands up in the air.“Great, so we agree that the world-class assassin is either trying to kill me or coddle me. What is this, Russian Roulette?”~The Winter Soldier keeps surfacing while Tony is little. The Avengers are a) protective and b) confused.
Relationships: Tony Stark & Avengers Team, Tony Stark & James "Bucky" Barnes, Tony Stark & Steve Rogers
Comments: 27
Kudos: 480





	The Not-So-Murderous Assassin

**Author's Note:**

> hello! soo i maybe got a bit sidetracked from my WIPs and wrote this. i've been reading a lot of littleverse fics and a lot of winter/bucky are separate personalities fics so i thought hey, why not combine them! 
> 
> there are some russian words in here that have been google translated, but i understand that google translate isn't exactly all that reliable at times, so if you notice any errors please let me know! 
> 
> other than that, i hope you enjoy the fic <3

When Bucky first arrives at the tower he’s skittish and reserved, only communicating directly with the Avengers when spoken to. There isn’t one moment where he _doesn’t_ look flighty and shifty-eyed, like he’s constantly on the verge of packing up his limited belongings and booking it. 

It’s a slow, oftentimes grueling, process, one that takes place over a number of months, but one that is absolutely worth it to see the way Bucky opens up to them, the spark that steadily returns to his eyes and the light that steadily returns to his smile. There are good days and bad days, but eventually, the good ones begin to outnumber the bad ones, until almost a month stretches between them. Tony only ever saw the WWll reels, he never knew Bucky as anything but the man that appeared at their doorstep, looking thoroughly haunted by a past he couldn’t quite remember, but he thinks that maybe, just _maybe,_ as his memories return, some of his personality returns too. 

Credit where credit’s due, considering all of the horrors that man went through, it’s a hell of a feat that he still manages to have his wits about him. In fact, he even manages to throw Tony’s snark right back at him like it’s nothing, engaging in frequent competitions with Steve and Sam that devolve into something more and more absurd each time. 

So, really, it’s all okay. Or about as okay as it gets when you take a bunch of traumatized superheroes and put them all in one tower. 

It’s just that sometimes... _sometimes,_ Bucky isn’t in control. Which is a certified _trip_ to experience for the first time, to say the very least. Steve’s skin is already pretty fair, but Tony makes the startling discovery that day that he can, in fact, turn about as pale as a bedsheet. He doesn’t really share his teammates’ alarm over the whole ordeal, maybe because so much weird shit has happened to him that when life throws him a curveball he looks it dead in the eye and sighs. 

Either way, they all find out that the Winter Soldier lives inside Bucky’s head, and that he likes to come out and play every once in a while. Tony _does_ understand that he never went toe to toe with the guy himself — Steve and Natasha did — and he _does_ understand that having a hardened assassin sitting on your nice polished living room floor sharpening a couple of knives would, for the average person, be a cause for alarm. Bucky certainly thought so once he came to, apologizing profusely and insisting an incident like that hadn’t happened for a couple of years at least. He’s working himself into a downright spiral by the time Steve and Tony manage to calm him down, get him a glass of water and tell him that they can deal with this, that he isn’t getting kicked from the tower or anything crazy. 

So. It sort of just becomes a thing. At Bucky’s insistence they put some safety measures into place, have JARVIS promise to intervene if shit hits the fan, and Tony is only mildly concerned by Bucky’s occasional muttering to someone who isn’t physically there. 

Nothing actually _happens_ for a month or so, which leaves the team thinking it may have been a one-off. Privately, Tony thinks it has every chance of happening again, but hey, he’s been wrong before. 

Then, on a chilly Sunday evening, it all seems to come to a head at once, and it turns out that Tony may not have been wrong this time around. 

“Hey, baby,” Steve coos, “movie’s over.”

He whines and nuzzles in closer. Steve lets out a huff of amusement.

“You’ll be more comfortable in your crib,” he coaxes, “and then you won’t have me bothering you.” 

Tony blinks up at him dazedly. He feels his pacifier starting to slip, but he doesn’t have the energy to do anything about it other than whine again.

“I know, it’s been a long day, huh? But I’ll carry you, then you can sleep for as long as you want.”

There’s static buzzing away inside his head, and he really doesn’t want to move, but he tries to make his limbs cooperate anyway, clambering clumsily onto Steve’s lap and wrapping his arms loosely around the back of his neck. He sucks on his pacifier, lazy and slow. 

“Alright, let’s — oh, hey Buck.” 

There’s a note of uncertainty wound through his tone, which tracks. Bucky is well aware of Tony’s classification, and that Steve is his primary caregiver, but they all figured that a gradual introduction to Tony in his headspace might be for the better, to avoid alarming him in any capacity. It’s probably been a while for him, and he can’t imagine Hydra was providing any substantial classification education. He’s been reading up lately, with the books that Tony had recommended to Steve when he was still freshly out of the ice, but he hasn’t actually _met_ Little Tony yet. 

“Uh. Tony’s just — I was just getting him up to bed, he’s had a long day,” Steve explains, somewhat sheepish. 

“You can sit with us,” Nat adds, which has Tony peeking up from his hiding spot in the crook of Steve’s neck through heavy-lidded eyes. He’d honestly forgotten that the other Avengers were all sprawled out on the couches with them. 

“Yeah man, we can continue your video game lessons,” says Sam. 

Steve presses a kiss to Tony’s hair and mumbles, “you wanna say hi real quick?” 

Tony looks up, resting his chin on Steve’s chest. Steve looks unbearably fond as he wraps his arms more solidly around Tony’s waist, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth. 

He means to say something along the lines of “okay”, but what comes out is a weak “mhm.” He turns in Steve’s lap, just enough to bring Bucky into his field of view, and he can’t help the sudden bout of shyness that comes over him. He and Steve very much keep things to the tower, because Tony has never been comfortable with the idea of being little in public, and his classification was a very quick discovery for the Avengers, so it’s been a reasonably long time since he’s met someone new while in headspace.

“Hi,” he says around his pacifier, before shifting and burrowing back into the safety of Steve’s neck. He grumbles a little when he feels Steve’s chest vibrate, no doubt with suppressed laughter. 

“Is my little man shy?” he coos. 

“Aw, remember when he was like that with us, ‘Tasha?” Clint asks, before yelping as though he’d received a sharp elbow to the side. Nat’s specialty. 

Tony isn’t actually sure what happens. He’s fuzzy, and tired, and processing complex thoughts or emotions while in headspace is virtually impossible. All he knows is that one moment, the atmosphere is light, playful, relaxed, then, between milliseconds almost, that vanishes without a trace. He feels Steve stiffen, feels his grip tighten, feels the stuttered breath of surprise he lets out. 

“Clint, Sam, stay down,” Nat says, almost casually.

He hears her get up from the couch, and he goes to turn around, to see what has all this suffocating tension blanketing the room, but Steve raises a hand to cradle the back of his head and stands up.

“Daddy?” he asks, voice wavering with apprehension, muffled slightly by his pacifier.

“Sh, it’s okay, let’s get you up to bed, huh?” he whispers, hiking him up his hip a bit. 

It doesn’t feel like their normal route, sticking carefully to the walls of the open-plan living space. Steve’s steps are slow yet sure, calculated almost, and there’s undeniable tension wound through his body that he keeps trying to ease. Tony catches a glimpse of the scene that’s unfolding over Steve’s shoulder before they enter the elevator. He sees Sam, Clint and Bruce sitting stiffly on the couch, almost ramrod straight, looking poised to spring into action, and Nat talking to Bucky, who seems to be ignoring her entirely in favor of looking directly at Tony. There’s something different about him, something in the hardness of his expression and the relaxed way he holds himself, quiet power simmering just below the surface. Tony can’t for the life of him pinpoint what it is, or why his Daddy seems so eager to get away, so he offers the man a hesitant wave as the elevator doors close. He only just catches Bucky’s blink of surprise.

~ 

Tony likes to think he knows his teammates relatively well by now. Shared living quarters, shared traumatic experiences, that sort of thing, generally strengthens the bond between people, draws them together in inexplicable ways. 

Bucky, once he began to open up, was no different. 

Which is why he _notices_ things, okay, he _notices_ when the man edges toward the opposite side of a room when he’s in it, he _notices_ when Bucky doesn’t take the seat next to him during dinner, as he always does when Tony is sitting by Bruce, because he likes to listen in on the science talk. He reads physics textbooks in his spare time, he sits with him in the workshop and helps out with projects, throws in his two cents where he can. He’s a nerd, and Tony is _thrilled_.

The point is — Bucky might think he’s being subtle, but he really isn’t.

“Okay, seriously, it’s only been a day and this is already getting old. You’re killing me over here, Terminator.” 

Bucky freezes. He’s poised just over the counter where he was about to sit, a bowl in his hands.

Tony sighs, runs a hand over his face. “At ease, soldier. There aren’t any ghosts around, even though you look like you’ve seen one.” 

“Stark—“

“Oh dear god, please don’t tell me we’re back to ‘Stark’ now. I feel like we’ve gone to strangers in the span of like, a day, and I’m telling you right now, if it has _anything_ to do with what happened on Sunday—“

“It has everything to do with that!” Bucky bursts out, before proceeding to look absolutely horrified, mouth twisting into a grimace. “Sorry. Sorry. Just been on edge lately.” 

“I can see that,” says Tony, helpless against the way he softens, “but I’m fine. Fully intact and everything. Your murderous winter friend didn't lay a finger on me.” 

“‘S not about that, it’s about the fact that he came out at all. First time it’s happened in a month and it’s while you’re little? I—I can’t be around you if he wants to hurt you.”

“That’s ridiculous. Steve, tell him he’s being ridiculous.” 

There’s a lengthy pause. Tony frowns and looks back at the table where the Avengers are all sat, looking unusually subdued. 

“Steve?” he prompts, voice firm. 

Steve opens his mouth before immediately closing it, and Bucky raises his hands, exasperation rolling off him in waves.

“ _See?!_ ”

“No, Buck, that’s not what I—of course, I don’t think you’re dangerous, there are measures in place, we know how to deal with—“

“He’s your Little, Stevie, ‘course you want him safe! The Winter Soldier is smart, trained up to a damn _fault_. The measures might not be enough. And there’s too much risk while Tony is little, even with you guys around.” 

His shoulders are slumped in resignation by the time he finishes speaking, eyes downcast. Steve has his kicked puppy look going, and Tony can practically see the gears in his head turning, trying to figure out how to approach this as tactfully as possible. 

The thing is, he _knows_ that he’s vulnerable while he’s in headspace, it’s something he still has hang-ups over sometimes. He can hardly call the suit to him or defend himself in hand-to-hand while he has the headspace of a 2-year-old or younger, so as much as he hates the idea of having to be protected, he knows he sure as hell wouldn’t be able to protect himself. Not when he’s little. 

“You can talk to him, right?” he blurts, mostly to fill the deafening silence that’s ringing in his ears.

Bucky blinks, looking between Steve and Tony for a beat, before answering, “yeah. Yeah I can. He’s a pain in my ass most days. Why?” 

Tony shrugs. “Have you asked Robocop what he wants?” 

“‘Course I have. Son of a bitch won’t gimme a straight answer.” 

“Look, I know the pair of you have...well, a _complicated_ past, a lot of uh, _issues_ there, but do you think, maybe, possibly, he’s throwing your energy back at you?” 

“What, you want me to make nice with him?” 

“He hasn’t tried anything,” Nat pipes up, voice even, “he trained me. I know what he’s capable of. If he really wanted to hurt any of us he’d have done it already.”

“He _did_ start playing throw and catch with knives, just putting that out there,” says Sam. 

Nat shrugs. “Didn’t aim for any of us.” 

“Right, because throwing _knives_ isn’t unhinged at all—“

Bucky’s eyes bug out. “He _what?_ No one told me that. Why didn’t anyone tell me that?” 

“Uh yeah, was this before or after I left?” Tony asks.

“After,” says Nat, “right before Bucky gained control again.” 

Another pregnant pause. Bucky looks downright _miserable_ , curled in on himself like he thinks he can physically stop himself from hurting anyone, and Tony’s heart _aches_ . It had taken a long, _long_ time for the Avengers to convince him that he wasn’t a threat to them, that they trusted him, that they wanted him there. He can practically see all that progress unraveling before his very eyes like loose twine. He doesn’t like the idea of feeding into Bucky’s fear that he’s dangerous, but he also wants him to be as comfortable as possible at the tower, doesn’t want him to be second-guessing his every move like he was while on the run. 

“What if we put Tony in like, an indestructible bubble,” says Clint. When he receives a flat look from just about everyone in the room, he shrugs, “hey, look, I’m just spitballing here. I don’t see any of you coming up with any bright ideas.” 

“I think we should keep some distance between Buck and Tony while he’s little, at least until we know where the soldier’s head is at,” says Steve. 

Tony winces. “Calling him ‘the soldier’ feels weird. He should have a name. Snowflake? Frosty? What about Winter? Has a nice ring to it.” 

“Yeah, except for the fact that he’s a murderous assassin, not a cute little puppy,” says Bucky. There’s a pause, then he rolls his eyes so hard Tony is scared for a moment that they’ll stay that way. “Hasn’t said a word all day, now he’s tellin’ me that he likes ‘Winter.’” 

Tony grins. “Looks like Winter Wonder has a good taste in names. I can appreciate that.” 

Bruce, who has remained relatively quiet up until now, looks between Tony and Bucky for a long moment. “So you can’t see what goes on while he’s in control, but he can see what goes on while you’re in control.” 

“Yeah. Pretty much.” 

“Does he come out when you’re feeling a particular way?” 

Bucky shakes his head. “It’s random. He chooses when he wants to come out.” 

Bruce leans back in his chair, looking thoughtful. Tony looks down at his full bowl and sighs. 

“We might have to zap these in the microwave for a bit. Bucky, I’m not gonna force you to sit next to me, but just know that I will be irreversibly _crushed_ and _saddened_ and—"

“Alright, alright, I’ll sit next to you,” says Bucky, a wan smile ghosting over his face. 

He doesn’t tack on a ‘princess’ or a ‘sweetheart’ like he usually does, but Tony takes the small win anyway. 

~ 

New York seems to be in peril an awful lot during the following few weeks. His schedule is unbelievably hectic, with several major deadlines all falling on the same days, and he doesn’t get many opportunities to drop, which seems to have Steve on edge almost as much as it has him on edge. He knows there’s a reason there are guidelines outlined for both Littles and Caregivers — the ramifications for both when it comes to suppressing their instincts range from physical to mental, from stress to fatigue to hormonal imbalances. Steve’s schedule is filled to the brim too, missions and SHIELD meetings and paperwork. 

Essentially, by the time they’re re-grouping at the SHIELD helicarrier after a particularly trying battle, Tony is exhausted right done to the bone, hanging on to his big headspace by the world’s finest thread. The suit is being put through decontamination, and the other Avengers have emerged from their own decontamination showers, fatigue written into the lines of their faces and their slackened postures. Usually, a bustling environment like this — with SHIELD personnel swarming them and subjecting them to slews of questions — is enough to help him maintain his tenuous grip on his big headspace, but he can feel himself slipping the longer he sits there, can feel his thoughts becoming increasingly difficult to wade through and his blinks lasting longer and longer. The adrenaline has been leached from his body, leaving behind an overwhelming sense of light-headedness. 

He just wants his Daddy. But his Daddy is the only person who isn’t here, because he’d gone through decontamination before any of them and is currently talking with Fury in his office. 

Tony can feel tears stinging at his eyes as he brings his legs up on the chair, tries to make himself as small as possible. His vision blurs, and his thumb creeps towards his mouth of its own accord. He looks toward each Avenger, because he doesn’t want to bother anyone, but Steve told him that if he ever dropped while he wasn’t there, then he should go to one of them so that they could help him. They all look so haggard, though, and _busy_ , like they’re running on fumes alone, and Tony really doesn’t want to interrupt any of their conversations. 

His gaze lands on Bucky, who’s sitting on a bench away from the chaos, away from the SHIELD agents and the medical personnel and the general hustle and bustle. Bucky is already looking at him, a curiously intent expression on his face, eyes sparking with a perceptive glint. Tony doesn’t want to bother him either, because Steve told him that he shouldn’t go to Bucky for help if he’s feeling little, just for the time being. He’s really struggling to remember _why_ though, because navigating his thoughts at the moment feels tantamount to wading through thick, murky water. 

Tony slips his thumb into his mouth and curls in on himself, trying hard to self-soothe in the face of the panic that’s gripping his chest, refusing to let go. He notices movement in his peripheral vision, and he redirects his gaze, surprised to find that Bucky is standing now. His demeanor seems different — more laid back — as he begins to approach. 

“Clint,” someone prompts firmly, someone who almost sounds like... _oh_. Nat is standing in front of him now, a kind smile curving her lips.

“Hey котенок,” she murmurs, softer now, “let’s get you changed and to your Daddy, hm?” 

She lifts him from the chair with startling ease, adjusting her grip on him a few times before hurrying from the room. Tony can usually remember why Nat doesn’t struggle when it comes to lifting him, but right now he feels small and fuzzy and just the slightest bit scared. He catches sight of Bucky before they leave, looking after him with that same spark in his eyes. Briefly, he turns his gaze on the SHIELD agents that seemed poised to strike, and his expression almost looks flat with disbelief. He says something in a thick Russian accent that Tony’s doesn’t quite catch before they round a corner. There aren’t as many people in the corridor as there were in the room, so he squeezes his eyes shut and lets himself melt into Nat’s hold. 

There are a few rooms on the helicarrier that are there specifically for Littles and their Caregivers, particularly post-mission, and Natasha gets him changed into a diaper and some oversized clothes from his Daddy’s SHIELD locker. That probably means she knows his locker combination, but Tony can hardly dwell on that when he’s starting to lean heavily towards his little headspace. 

Daddy’s clothes are soft, and they smell just like him, which soothes him enough that he easily accepts the pacifier that Nat offers, no doubt also from his Daddy’s locker, because he keeps equipment there in case of emergencies. 

“Nat?” he whispers, once he’s settled back into her arms, “Buddy awight?” 

“Bucky’s fine,” she confirms, as they make their way down a crowded corridor, “he just needs a minute, which is why we’re gonna get you to Steve.” 

That satisfies him enough to rest his head on Nat’s shoulder again, his thoughts slowing right down until the only thing he registers is the gentle sway back and forth as they walk. 

They arrive at the door of a conference room, and Nat knocks twice. He peeks up from where he’s burrowed into her neck to see Fury regarding them curiously through the glass. Steve appears at the door a moment later, blue eyes widened a little with concern, still bright despite how run-down he appears. He turns to say something to Fury before stepping out, letting the door close behind him with a gentle thud. 

“He had a drop,” Nat explains quietly, “Winter came out.” 

Tony doesn’t even _try_ to comprehend what she’s saying, he just whines low in his throat, sucking adamantly on his pacifier as he reaches his arms out toward his Daddy. The sight of him alone has Tony’s headspace settling, the edges of his consciousness fully blurring, fading into the background like white noise. 

“Hey, baby,” he says, taking Tony into his arms with ease, supporting his thighs with one arm and his back with the other. There’s an almost tangible sense of relief in Steve’s demeanor, in the way his shoulders relax, slumping down from where they’d been bunched up. Tony snuggles into him, content, as Steve and Nat talk in low tones. 

He makes a noise of protest when his Daddy shifts him in his arms, settling again when he receives a placating kiss to his cheek. 

“Let’s get you out of here and somewhere more comfortable,” he mumbles into Tony’s hair. 

“Wobots?” 

He can feel Daddy’s smile against his temple. “Sure you won’t be too tired to play with your robots once we’re back home, sweetheart?” 

Tony stubbornly shakes his head. “No tired.” 

“Oh, of course not. My little man’s not tired at all, because he’s never tired, is that it?” 

He gives Tony’s side a quick tickle, smiling when he giggles madly and burrows further into the crook of his neck.

“Little,” he says. 

“Oh, okay, a little bit tired. I see.” 

He tries to stay awake as his Daddy walks down a few corridors, he really does, but the rhythmic sway back and forth and the warmth of being held so close is enough to pull him under into the lull of sleep. 

~

He wakes up the following morning feeling big, foggy memories of the previous day sharpening rapidly, coming into focus with every second that passes. There’s a sinking feeling in his gut, that Bucky might attempt to start distancing himself from Tony again, that the reassurance of nothing happening for almost a month might unravel. 

When he enters the communal floor, pretty much all of the Avengers are congregated there, various conversations flowing between them. Bucky is the first to notice him, and he opens his mouth, undoubtedly to unleash a string of profuse apologies, but Tony raises a hand to stop him. 

“Please don’t apologize. I might actually cry. It’s too early for apologies.” 

Bucky promptly closes his mouth, before smiling slightly and saying, “it’s 10 am.” 

“ _Exactly_.” 

He retreats to the kitchen for coffee, only settling down on the couch with the other Avengers once he has a steaming mug in his hands. His brain is officially _slightly_ more online now. 

“Okay. Might as well address the elephant in the room because it’s 10 am and it’s _way_ too early for there to be elephants in the room. Barton, just...talk us through what happened once Winter came out, alright?”

Bucky is sitting beside him, looking miserable once again. Tony pats his knee assuringly and directs his gaze toward Clint, prompting him silently. 

“‘Tasha and I only noticed when he stood up. He looked like he was making his way toward Tony, so she got him out of there while I tried to question him a bit. I asked him why he came out and I didn’t get an answer, but he wasn’t doing anything besides just standing there, looking at Tony.” 

Sam shakes his head. “You gotta tell them about what he said, man. He was all like _‘you should get the little one somewhere more secure, because there are about a hundred different ways this helicarrier could be compromised.’_ Then when I asked him if _he_ was planning on compromising the helicarrier, he _smiled_ and he said _‘that’s not within my mission parameters.’_ It was creepy as all hell.” 

“Only because you’re a scaredy cat,” Nat teases.

“Hey now,” says Sam, pointing an accusatory finger, “you weren’t there, Romanoff. That shit was weird.” 

Tony sighs when he notices the horror that’s written all over Bucky’s face. “Bucky. Buck. Terminator. Snowflake. It’s _fine_. Your Winter friend really doesn’t seem all that...murderous.”

“He’s an assassin,” says Bucky, shaking his head, “I trust him ‘bout as far as I can throw him. Plus I don’t like the fact that he keeps comin’ out while you’re little.” 

“We shouldn’t let our guard down,” Steve agrees, “until we can get more clear answers from him, we don’t know what we’re dealing with here.” 

Bruce hesitates, before asking, “Bucky, you were classified as a Caregiver, right?” 

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow. “Yeah. But...Hydra did a pretty damn good job of repressing my instincts. I’m only just getting some of ‘em back.” 

“Do you think those instincts might be transferring over to Winter?” 

“If you’re implying that he’s tryin’ to _protect_ Tony—“

“If he was trying to hurt him, he would’ve already,” Nat reminds him, “he doesn’t seem hostile. What other reason would he have for coming out?” 

“I—I don’t know, maybe he’s biding his time or somethin’, trying to—to get Tony alone,” he says, looking increasingly gloomy. 

Steve worries his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. “There is a point there,” he hedges. 

“But why would he come out specifically when Tony is little?” Nat challenges, “he could’ve gotten Tony alone while Bucky was in the lab with them. He’s smart. He wouldn’t come out unnecessarily — he knew Tony wasn’t alone on the helicarrier.”

There’s a lengthy pause. Tony throws his hands up in the air.

“Great, so we agree that the world-class assassin is either trying to kill me or coddle me. What is this, Russian Roulette?” 

“He’s probably not trying to kill you,” Nat placates. 

Sam winces. “Well…” 

Tony snorts. “Yeah, thanks guys, that instills me with the utmost confidence. Bucky, can you still talk with him?”

“He hasn’t been talkin’ a whole lot lately,” he admits, somewhat sheepishly, “I’ve been a bit snappy with him.”

“Try and get what you can,” says Steve, “I’m still not comfortable with him being around Tony while he’s little, but if he isn’t presenting a threat then…”

“Then we can let the Winter Munchkin coddle Tony?” Clint coos.

“See, this is what happens when you give him cute onesies and pacifiers and blankets, Cap,” Sam accuses playfully, “even the scariest people get some serious coddling urges.”

“Putting it on the record right now that I don’t like any of you,” says Tony, arms folded petulantly. 

“Aw, you don’t mean that,” Steve says, grinning, and Tony directs a glare at him, because he _doesn’t_ mean it, not even in the slightest. 

“I have business in the workshop,” he declares, standing up from the couch. Bucky looks hesitant for a moment, before standing too, and Tony has to hide his triumphant smile. 

~ 

The Avengers double their efforts from that point forth to keep Tony away from Bucky while he’s in headspace, apparently wanting to keep to the safety side of things, which is equal parts amusing and frustrating, because he doesn’t like that they have to be treating Bucky as though he’s dangerous, but it’s also sort of, _kind of_ funny at times. Steve strays down to the communal floor less and less while he’s looking after Tony, peeking around corners like he doesn’t have JARVIS there who can tell him exactly who’s where. He almost religiously makes sure that Tony drops about two times a week, so that the chance of another involuntary slip is lessened. 

A month goes by, and Winter doesn’t come out to play once. It’s all smooth sailing, really. Until, of course, it isn’t, and an array of unfortunate circumstances all pile up at once, culminating in Tony being on the verge of a drop while Steve is out on a mission with Nat, Clint and Sam, a mission that’s taking about three days longer than anticipated. Steve has been downright frantic, calling him at least once a day despite the fact that he should be on radio silence and asking him whether he’s feeling little, whether he needs to come back. The _last_ thing Tony wants to do is cut Steve’s mission short just because he can feel his headspace niggling at the back of his mind. Nevermind the fact that it’s slowly seeping its way to the forefront, muddying his thoughts and making his concentration on his projects falter.

Tony had been fairly confident that he could handle a drop by himself, if it ended up coming down to that. Sure, it had been years, but he wasn’t an infant while he was in headspace — two-year olds can look after themselves, right? Either way, dusk is drawing steadily closer, and Steve is due back the following morning. He’ll be okay.

The thing is, _Big Tony_ is well aware that Steve will be back soon, that he hasn’t abandoned him, and that everything is _fine._

_Little Tony,_ however, realizes that Steve isn’t in the tower and proceeds to have a meltdown of epic proportions. 

Which is how he ends up an inconsolable bundle of misery, wedged into the corner of his workshop with hitching sobs rattling through his chest, tearing their way from his throat, accompanied by frequent bouts of pitiful whimpering. He can feel the tears rolling their way down his cheeks as he curls up, makes himself as small as physically possible by bringing his knees to his chest and rocking back and forth. His thumb makes its way to his mouth, but even the rhythmic suckling does nothing to abate his cries. 

His Daddy is _gone,_ and Tony has no idea if he’s coming back. The thought only renews his tears. Bruce is away, too, so it’s just him and Bucky, but Tony’s _still_ not allowed near him, for reasons he can’t remember. 

Vaguely, he can hear JARVIS’ voice, but he barely processes it. He just wants a hug, or to be picked up, or to just have his Daddy _there_.

It’s when he feels a warm wetness spread across the front of his elasticated jeans that his sobs kick up a notch, limiting his airflow and making it harder and harder to breathe. It feels as though the air won’t quite reach his lungs, even as he takes in futile gulps of it, which only sends his blinding panic ratcheting up further. 

“Antoshka?” 

He peeks up from between his fingers, eyes widening when he realizes it’s Bucky standing there. His voice sounds different, though, which has Tony’s sobs tapering off just the slightest amount as he regards him, brows furrowed. 

“...Buddy?” 

Bucky blinks, before crouching down in front of him. 

“I’m Winter,” he says, “your friends will arrive soon. Can I help you?” 

“...Winder,” he says, mostly to himself. He thinks for a moment, sucking on his thumb, before nodding slowly. “Daddy?” 

Winter hesitates. “The Captain will be home tomorrow. But your friends — Pepper, Rhodes, they will be here soon.” 

“They are approximately ten minutes away, young sir,” JARVIS intones. 

Tony sniffles and nods again, stretching out a hand while keeping the thumb of his other firmly lodged in his mouth. He knows his Daddy told him he should stay away from Bucky, but this doesn’t seem like Bucky, and he really, _really_ just wants to be picked up.

Winter scoops him up into his arms with ease, settling him on his hip. He gives Tony a scrutinizing once-over before nodding to himself. 

“JARVIS? The top floor, are security systems online?”

“Indeed. Scans indicate that all tower security systems and protocols are in place.” 

This seems to satisfy him, at least enough that he heads toward the elevator, swift and sure. Tony tries not to focus on the uncomfortable wetness of his jeans, burying his face into the crook of Winter’s neck. There’s a moment of hesitation, then he feels Winter’s flesh and blood hand come up to cradle the back of his head. Tony melts into his hold and nuzzles in closer, whimpers still escaping every now and again as he tries to get his breathing under control, imitating the steady rise and fall of the chest he’s pressed in against. His eyes feel itchy, and his throat feels icky from all of the crying, but he’s unfathomably relieved that there’s someone holding him, that Pepper and Rhodey will be here soon, that his Daddy doesn’t hate him.

The elevator doors open up to the penthouse, and Winter looks around for a moment, before advancing forward toward the hall. 

“The third door,” JARVIS prompts, to which Winter nods once. 

He flicks on the lights with one hand, holding Tony steady with the other, and easily locates the diaper bag, which contains a spare pair of pajama pants, as well as one of Steve’s sweaters — one of the only things that can calm Tony down if he’s panicking while Steve isn’t there. Winter’s eyes skim over the instructions on the diaper packaging, which contains a few deep blue diapers in Tony’s size, stars printed along the front of them. He carefully lays Tony down and extracts a packet of wipes from the bag. 

“Okay, зайка?” 

Tony looks up at him with big, slightly unfocused eyes, and nods. He can still feel the tear tracks that have dried on his face, but his breathing has evened out now. 

Winter is systematic and precise, more clinical than his Daddy, but his expression is softer around the edges than he’s seen it before, which puts Tony at ease. Once he’s in a clean diaper and a new change of clothes, his jeans thrown into the laundry basket with startling precision, Winter washes his hands and picks Tony up from the changing table. 

“JARVIS?” 

“Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodes have experienced a minor delay, their estimated time of arrival is now 8:47 pm.”

Winter shoots a glance toward the living room clock and nods. “The Captain?” 

“I have informed Captain Rogers and he is wrapping up at SHIELD headquarters. He should be here when young sir wakes.” 

“Okay. Do you need anything, Малыш?” he asks, just the slightest bit softer now. 

Tony blinks. “Paci?” He already feels calmer, bundled in his Daddy’s oversized sweater, but he doesn’t want to keep sucking on his thumb. Daddy prefers him to have a pacifier.

“Pacifier,” says Winter, seemingly to himself, as his gaze darts around the room. He reaches the kitchen counter in a few swift strides and picks up the Captain America pacifier that sits there. Keeping an arm wrapped solidly around Tony, he moves toward the sink and washes the pacifier before offering it to him. He accepts it with a happy hum, sucking lazily as he lays his head on Winter’s shoulder. 

He vaguely registers crossing the room, and being set carefully down on the couch. Winter’s eyes scan him for a moment, and he seems to come to a decision, grabbing the fuzzy blanket that’s draped over the back of the couch and wrapping it around Tony’s shoulders. Tony blinks up at him, and a smile ghosts over Winter’s features, just for a moment. 

He looks around at the room again, stopping short when he notices a box of toys. Tony sees where his gaze falls and immediately perks up.

“Wobots?” 

Winter processes this for a moment before approaching the toy box and removing the lid. He shifts a few toys around before pulling out a pair of robots, one that looks just like DUM-E and one that looks more like a stuffed toy, with various buttons you can push in. He holds them up for him to see, and Tony nods, offering him a shy smile around his pacifier. The robot stuffie has a button for colors and a button for shapes and a button for numbers. Plus, it makes lots of cool noises. 

He watches as Winter replaces the lid and clicks it into place, before striding back over and placing the robots on either side of Tony, who can barely contain a noise of delight as he scoops them up into his arms. Winter observes him for a moment, expression still unsatisfied, like he’s missed something. 

“What about some milk, зайка?”

Tony nods. “Milk p’ease?” 

“I’ll be back soon,” he says, before leaving for the kitchen. 

He’s really starting to wonder why his Daddy doesn’t want him to be around Bucky when he gave him his pacifier and his stuffies and his blanket, and now he’s even getting him milk. Well — Winter is. He’s still confused about all of that, and about why Winter’s voice is so differently accented, but big thoughts hurt his head, so he allows himself to be consumed by the fuzziness once more, eyes slipping closed as he snuggles into his blanket and holds his robots close. 

Tony honestly doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until he hears Winter cooing, voice gentle, telling him he has his milk. He blinks dazedly up at him for a moment.

“‘Anks, Winder,” he murmurs, as he accepts the sippy cup, movements sluggish and just a little clumsy. His pacifier fell out during the few minutes he was out, resting on his chest, but Tony is feeling far too tired to move it, so he just leaves it there as he takes a sip from his cup. 

Winter pats his head twice, before turning and pacing the length of the walls, pausing around the windows and examining them intently. Tony doesn’t know what he’s doing, it looks a little silly, so he drinks his milk and presses a few buttons on his robot, barely suppressing his giggles of delight. Winter settles down by his side once he’s satisfied, a faint smile tugging the corners of his mouth just slightly upward. 

“Do you have names for them?” he asks. 

Tony looks down at them for a moment. “Baby DUM-E,” he says, gesturing to his DUM-E toy, “Fuzzle. ‘S got fuzzy,” he explains, as he points toward his stuffie. 

Winter nods seriously. “Very fuzzy,” he agrees. 

“Fuzzle ‘s…’s dad,” he explains, “Baby DUM-E ‘s baby. Onwy baby.” 

“Like you?”

Tony giggles and shakes his head. “I big boy. Daddy says.” 

“Oh. Of course,” says Winter, nodding again. 

Tony is babbling about his robots between sips of warm milk when the elevator doors open. Pepper smiles cordially, heels clacking against the polished tile as she enters, closely followed by Rhodey. He looks relaxed, but there’s a tension he carries in his shoulders that gives him away.

“So, you’re—that’s. You’re the Winter Soldier?” Rhodey confirms, folding his arms over his chest, looking nowhere near as surprised as he probably should’ve been.

A smirk lurks at the corner of Winter’s mouth. “Winter is fine.” 

“Winter. Right. Well, uh, pleasure to meet you, man.” 

Pepper ruffles Tony’s hair, smiling fondly when he beams up at her. “Thank you for looking after him,” she adds.

Winter nods. “He’s very good.”

He gets up from the couch, and Rhodey hesitates, before saying, “you don’t have to leave, not if Tones wants you here.” 

“The walls and windows,” Winter says, as though that in itself is an explanation, “I’ll be back.” 

He disappears down the hall, and Pepper and Rhodey exchange a brief glance. They sit down on either side of Tony, and Tony gives them both a smile as he sets his empty sippy cup on the table, slipping his pacifier into his mouth.

“Whodey, Pep, pway?” 

“Of course, buddy,” says Rhodey, “we playing robots again?” 

Tony nods, practically vibrating with his excitement. “Wobots!” 

Pepper drops a kiss to his hair. “What about we do shapes this time, hm?” 

“S’apes,” he agrees, pressing the orange button on Fuzzle’s stomach. 

He snuggles into his blanket and settles between Rhodey and Pepper, pure contentment simmering beneath his skin. 

~ 

“Holy shit. He really _did_ just want to coddle Tony,” Clint crows. 

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose, pacing back and forth, glancing occasionally at the footage displayed to them on the holoscreen as if he’s sure it’ll disappear each time. “Are we sure this footage hasn’t been doctored, or—or tampered with?”

“I distinctly remember all of it happening,” says Tony, “even if I didn’t exactly understand what was going on at the time.” 

He continues pacing, looking genuinely at a loss for words. Steve is sitting on the couch, pouting without even realizing it most likely. 

Tony snorts as he approaches him, “quit it with the puppy eyes, Cap. I’m fine.” 

“I’m not doing the puppy eyes,” Steve insists, while totally doing the puppy eyes. 

“Yeah, sure, of course you’re not,” Tony placates, “you’re just brooding, is that it?” 

He folds his arms over his chest. “I should’ve been there.” 

“You were under the impression that everything was fine, because I gave you that impression. It was an unfortunate slip. I was okay, I had JARVIS.” 

Steve still looks as though he’s inwardly beating himself up, so Tony sighs and takes the seat next to him, curling into his side. Once Steve is comfortable with someone he becomes very tactile, but he still has trouble admitting that he wants the contact, just like he has trouble admitting when he needs help, or when something is too much for him. Sure enough, some of the tension fades from his shoulders, slow and steady, and Steve winds an arm around him, almost on auto-pilot. They linger there for a few moments. 

“He got you warm milk,” Sam says, voice pitched up a little with disbelief, eyes glued to the holoscreen, “he wrapped you a damn _blanket_ and got you a sippy cup of milk.” 

“Don’t forget his robots,” Natasha adds, amused. 

Tony nods solemnly. “Astute observations, both of you.” 

Bucky looks as though he might start rocking back and forth at any moment, so Tony sends a quick glance of assurance toward Steve before standing up again, because there’s another brooding supersoldier who needs a hug apparently. 

“Terminator, a word?” 

He meets Tony’s gaze for a beat, eyebrows furrowed, before obliging, following him out towards the hall. Tony isn’t all that great with the whole comforting thing, or the whole tact thing, or the whole _emotions_ thing, but he doesn’t want Bucky still somehow thinking he’s dangerous, and he _does_ have some experience when it comes to supersoldiers who like to repress their feelings. 

He comes to a stop and turns to face Bucky. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, “because you sort of look like you’re gonna freak out on me right now.” 

“I’m—fine,” he says, voice thin and _utterly_ unconvincing.

“Right,” he agrees, “totally fine. Look, I know this might be weird to you—“

“ _Weird?_ It’s—he’s—I don’t. That footage, back there, that was...I mean, I’ve always thought he was a _monster_ ,” he says, almost helplessly, before wincing like he hadn’t meant to let that particular word slip. He lowers his voice a few notches, “I just find it hard to believe that’s all he wanted s’all. That’s not...him.” 

“And how do you know that?” 

“Because—I just do.”

Tony nods, because hey, Bucky has every reason to be wary. “Do you want my two cents? Genuinely asking here. People don’t want it sometimes.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, alright, hit me.” 

“The Winter Soldier developed in direct response to Hydra’s...well, Hydra’s conditioning. I’d almost say he protected you from all that horrible shit, made complying with their demands...not _easy_ , per se, but _doable_. I think that the longer he’s away from Hydra, the more he’s picking up on things, the more he’s realising that Hydra isn’t all there is, that their brainwashing isn’t all there is.”

“He’s dangerous,” Bucky protests weakly. His voice shatters around the edges. 

“When he wants to be,” Tony agrees, “but I don’t think he wants to be, at least not to us.” 

He knows he’s walking a fine line here, between not making Bucky’s concerns seem totally outrageous, while also trying to abate them. He sucks in a breath and waits.

Bucky’s lips part slightly with shock. “He just said you’re right. That’s the first time he’s spoken in a month.” 

Tony feels an almost fuzzy-headed relief at those words. “Do me a favor and talk to him more? Maybe try to keep things, you know, non-judgemental, when possible.”

Bucky nods slowly. Tony debates back and forth between hugging him, before deciding _fuck it,_ he really looks like he could do with a hug. 

As predicted, Bucky melts right into it, arms winding around Tony’s back and squeezing like he’s scared Tony might pull away. 

He doesn’t, not until Bucky does, and even then, he keeps a steady hand on his arm. 

~ 

It’s a gradual process, but over the next month Bucky communicates with Winter more and more, and Tony gets unfathomably happy any time he walks in on Bucky talking seemingly to himself. He still keeps away from Tony while he’s little, and Tony respects that. Steve is just the slightest bit uneasy too, remaining adamant that if Winter were to meet Tony while he’s in headspace again, he’d prefer that the other Avengers be there too for the time being.

At one point, Tony swears Bucky and Winter have an inside joke going, _literally_ , because they sort of communicate inside Bucky’s head. He can’t for the life of him work out what it is, but he’s pleased regardless. 

“Can I talk to him?” Tony asks one day.

They’re discussing another meeting while Tony is little, and he’s trying to alleviate some of Steve’s concerns. He honestly doesn’t think Winter will come out, or that Bucky will agree to even let him come out, but to his utmost shock Bucky just nods. His expression shifts, as well as his posture, and he feels Steve stiffen next to him, but otherwise he doesn’t betray any apprehension. 

“Holy shit. I didn’t think that would work. Uh. Well, I’m—“

“Tony Stark,” says Winter, with a nod, “I know who you are.” 

“Right. Word on the street, huh? Pretty common. And how much, exactly, do you know about me?” 

“Everything Bucky knows,” he says easily, “Hydra kept extensive files. You were under category ‘do not engage.’ They believed you’d dispose of me easily.” 

Tony tries not to preen. “The suit’s pretty dangerous,” he agrees, “but you’d know all about that, with the things Bucky sees while he’s down in the workshop.”

“It’s impressive,” he says, as though it’s a simple fact.

This time, Tony can’t smother his proud smile. “I do try. Uh, anyways, so I’m trying to convince Cap here that you don’t want to kill me or maim me or kidnap me. Can you give us some insight?”

“I don’t want to do that to anyone unless they’re Hydra,” says Winter.

Tony gives Steve’s side a playful elbow. “Hey look, there’s something you guys have in common.” 

Steve tries to maintain a facade of seriousness, but Tony can see the smile that’s twitching at the corners of his mouth. “There is something to be said about that,” he hedges, “I don’t think I’ve mentioned it but, well, I do appreciate you looking after Tony while I wasn’t there.” 

Winter nods. “He was good. You’re very fortunate.”

“I am,” Steve agrees, leaning over to press a brief kiss to Tony’s cheek and smiling when he rolls his eyes.

“If I thought this would get all touchy feely—“

“You didn’t seem to mind affection while you were little,” says Winter, almost like a casual observation, but Tony can see the mirth swimming in his eyes, okay, he can _see_ it.

“Are you—are you teasing me right now? Is that what’s happening here?” 

He looks between Steve and Winter for a moment before folding his arms petulantly. “Here I was, thinking you wouldn’t be like the other Avengers. _Clearly_ Bucky has had a negative influence on you, with all his snark.” 

Steve smiles, amused, but he seems to sober again after a moment. He turns to Winter. “This is really nothing personal, but I hope you don’t mind me and the other Avengers being there if, well, if you meet Tony while he’s in headspace again.” 

Winter nods. “It’s logical to have people on stand-by.”

Tony’s gaze flits between them, and he tries not to look too pleased by the developments. He stands up from the couch and claps his hands. “Great, now that that’s settled, Winter, what do you do for fun? I feel like you haven’t got out a whole lot, you should do something that doesn’t involve tower security, because that’s honestly depressing me a little just thinking about it.” 

Winter ponders this for a moment. “I like to bake.” 

“Baking? Huh. Well, it’s a good thing we have a couple of fully-stocked kitchens in the tower, then. Let me give you a tour.” 

Winter makes some of the best damn date-banana bread he’s ever had. The Avengers seem to come to a mutual decision that they’re _definitely_ keeping him. 

~ 

His second meeting with Winter is planned about a week in advance, but even that’s not particularly rigid. It’s more of a ‘schedules and spontaneous missions and/or calls to assemble permitting’ type deal. He’s come out a few more times, and he’s proven to be _very_ curious, particularly about Tony’s projects, asking all of the questions that had apparently elapsed over the past few months. Combative gear he previously thought was — well, not _perfected_ , because nothing can ever be perfected, but pretty damn good — is scrutinized by Winter, who offers adjustments. He even sits down with Tony and Steve and helps them adjust the more intricate details of their missions to raid suspected Hydra fronts and bases, almost scarily efficient in his breakdown of floor plans and entry points and weak links. Steve is left blinking a few times.

In the end, it’s not some big event or some grand set-up — it’s a slow Saturday afternoon, the sky outside steadily darkening as dusk approaches. The sunlight pouring in through the windows has taken on an orange hue, warming the countertops and the couches where the Avengers are all sprawled, limbs overlapping, as the TV plays. Tony is still sleep-warm and hazy from his afternoon nap, nuzzling into Steve’s embrace as he’s carried toward one of the couches, sucking lethargically at his pacifier. He blinks heavy-lidded eyes open when Steve sits. Even through the buzzing headspace that’s consuming his thoughts, he can tell it’s Winter sitting by them, and he offers him a slow smile around his pacifier. He squirms, feeling just the slightest bit more awake now, and Steve obliges the wordless request, chuckling as he sets Tony down on the couch between him and Winter. 

“Hey, лапушечка.” 

Some of the Avengers look over, but it seems to be out of mild curiosity more than anything. 

Tony’s smile broadens. “Hi, Winder. Pway b’ocks?” He points toward the smaller toy chest that’s pushed up beside the couch. 

Winter’s gaze flits to Steve, and he must find what he’s looking for, because a smile tugs at his lips, and he says, “of course.”

Tony makes a house out of wooden blocks, complete with a book roof. Winter adds an entire security system using legos, which Tony doesn’t quite have the hand coordination for, so he’s content to carefully move some of his figurines into the house, where they’ll be safe, and babble about which roles within the family each one has. He feels Steve’s legs against his back, a constant reassurance, even though he doesn’t really need it — he feels safe, and his little figurine family is safe in their heavily decked-out house, which is all that matters. 

“Winder toy,” he says, holding up his Bucky action figurine, “‘s be unca?” 

Winter blinks, before looking toward Steve, who chuckles and cards his fingers through Tony’s hair. 

“I think he’s asking if you wanna be uncle.” 

“Oh.” Winter smiles a little as he adds another piece of lego to his security system, “Uncle’s good,” he agrees, “but where is baby DUM-E?” 

Tony thinks for a moment, before crawling over toward his bigger toy box and staring at the clips. He fumbles for a moment, trying to unclasp them, which is when Winter gets up and comes over to help him. He lets out a crow of delight as they extract DUM-E from the box. 

“Baby DUM-E,” he says, pointing, as he crawls back over to the house and sits back down. He carefully wheels DUM-E inside. “Wif...wif Aun’ Tasha.” 

Nat looks over from where she’d been watching a reality TV show and smiles. As the ad break begins to play, she gets up and takes a seat beside Tony on the floor. 

“And where’s Daddy, котенок?” 

Tony beams and carefully extracts the Captain America figurine from the house. “‘S wigh’ here.” He looks up at Steve, who has a fond smile tugging at his lips.

It’s another few lego pieces before Winter’s security system is fully-fledged and _online_ , which Tony doesn’t really understand, but he _does_ understand that his family is safe. He hands Winter and Nat their respective figurines.

“Winder Tasha go pwaygwound wif baby?” 

Winter nods. “We can go to the playground.” 

Natasha heads over to the toy box, extracting a pre-built playground set. Tony has always been interested in acting out family scenes — aliens and monsters aren’t really his thing, not since New York — so they stocked up on more mundane sets. Winter seems to be examining the figurine he’d been handed with fascination. 

Tony happily babbles while he sets DUM-E on the swing, and eventually manages to rope the other Avengers into taking their respective figurines to the park with him.

“Sam, I was _definitely_ going for that slide first,” says Clint.

“There’s two slides, dude,” says Sam, “just use the other one.”

“You’re kidding me right? The other one is nowhere _near_ as cool—“

“It’s not my fault Falcon gets to places faster, maybe if you looked into a pair of wings—“

“Be nice,” Tony says, frowning as he gestures to DUM-E, “dere’s baby.” 

“Yeah, be nice guys,” Steve chides playfully, “there’s a baby.” 

“A _cute_ baby,” says Sam, reaching over the playground to tickle Tony’s stomach. 

“No!” he squeaks, giggling as he squirms back into Steve. 

“He’s a big boy,” says Winter, almost casually, smiling slightly as he adjusts the security system with another lego attachment.

“See? Winder says,” he giggles, as he swats at Sam’s hands. 

Steve presses a kiss to the side of his head. “Sorry, sweetheart. You’re a _very_ big boy.” 

“Big,” Tony agrees, as he goes back to trying to fit DUM-E through the bars of the obstacle course. 

Gradually, as the sun sinks below the horizon, Tony’s blinks start slowing, and his focus dwindles. His eyes slide shut for a moment, and his weight falls onto his Daddy’s legs. 

“Tired, лапушечка?” Winter asks, in what’s practically a croon. 

Tony blinks rapidly, rubbing at his eyes. “No tired,” he says. 

Winter looks at him for a moment, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Of course,” he agrees, “do you have any books you like to read?” 

Tony is heartened by that, and he crawls over towards the bottom shelf of the bookcase, where Tony’s books are kept so they can be easily accessible to him while in headspace. He pulls out a book that his Aunt Tasha gave him, which has a few words in Russian that he’s starting to recognize, about a lonely cat who finds a family. Winter is there when he turns, holding his arms out for Tony to climb into, which he does with a happy hum. He’s scooped up with ease, and deposited carefully down on the couch beside his Daddy. Winter takes the seat beside him.

“You want a pacifier, baby?” his Daddy asks.

Tony nods. “Yes p’ease.” It comes out a little slurred, because maybe, just maybe, he _is_ feeling a tiny bit sleepy, not that they have to know that. His Daddy smiles but doesn’t say a thing, just reaches into his pocket and offers Tony his favorite Captain America pacifier. 

He lays the book out across both his lap and Winter’s lap, suckling lazily as Winter begins to read. Gradually, his eyes droop, and his head falls onto Winter’s shoulder, and he nuzzles into the warmth he radiates almost absently. The last thing he remembers is the sound of Winter’s voice, rough yet soft, and his Daddy’s fingers running gently through his hair. 

He feels _safe._

**Author's Note:**

> this went in a very fluffy direction but it's me so who's surprised. i just want them all happy <3
> 
> happy christmas eve/merry christmas to those who celebrate!


End file.
